


Vodka and Firewhisky

by AlexNoelFieldingFan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drunken Kissing, F/M, First Kiss, Hermione and Ron got married early it says so in the cursed child, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, set after the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24200320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexNoelFieldingFan/pseuds/AlexNoelFieldingFan
Summary: Draco has a Christmas party every year, and Harry never goes.But this year, he has to.Basically they all get drunk and then gay shit happens.Written as a request from @wisteria-lodge on Tumblr.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley (mentioned), Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Kudos: 76





	Vodka and Firewhisky

Ring ring. Ring ring.

Click.

“Hello?”

“Harry,” Hermione sounded manic, that sort of manic she used to get before a test when she was convinced she knew nothing. “Are you free tonight?”

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s Draco’s party-”

Harry cut her off with a groan. Every year Malfoy threw one of these, one of his Christmas parties, and everyone who was anyone at the Ministry was invited. Including Harry, but he’d never gone of course. He didn’t think Malfoy expected him to. He knew Hermione went every year, you more or less had to if you wanted to get anywhere in the Ministry.   
“I’m not going.”

“Oh Harry you  _ have _ to. I’m not going on my own, it’ll be awful.”

“Why don’t you get Susan to go with you?” Susan Bones was more or less Hermione’s best friend outside of the auror department, and she usually went to all these boring things with her.

“Her dad’s been taken ill, she can’t go.”

“What about Ron?”

“He’s out with Dean and Seamus, I can’t get hold of him.” On purpose, Harry had no doubt. Ron would rather die than go to one of Malfoy’s soirees. “Please, Harry? I need you to.”

He sighed. He briefly considered faking some sort of date with Ginny but he could hear the desperation in his old friend’s voice. “OK. OK, I’m coming.”

“Thank you so much! Remember, dress robes.”

“Yeah I know, I know,” like Malfoy would throw a party where you wore anything other than dress robes. He’d been avoiding these parties for five years, anyway. He knew what was worn.

Seven o’clock that evening he showed up to Malfoy’s large house in the town, possibly magically enlarged (Harry wasn’t sure a house this big actually existed in central London), in smart dress robes with Hermione on his arm. Or more like he was on Hermione’s arm. She only came to these blasted things so she could become the youngest ever head of department at the ministry, as had always been her dream. 

He spotted a few aurors he knew, as well as his head of department who gave him a cheery wave. He then very deliberately avoided the gaze of Percy Weasley who seemed determined to get his attention. He was treated as an object of interest by most people at the party, still the celebrity he was a few years ago. He began to attract some very important people, including the head of Hermione’s own department, who he managed to palm off on Hermione.

There really were less people he recognised here than he expected. Surprisingly he found the minister himself, Kingsley Shakelbolt, and managed to pass a few minutes of conversation with him, but Kingsley found himself pulled away almost immediately to discuss more important matters. He grabbed a glass of firewhiskey and wondered where the host himself was.

He expected some sort of grand entrance of a sort from Malfoy, but nine o’clock came and went, some of the more important or older guests began to depart, and still there was no sign of him. Harry had long lost Hermione, and had now run out of firewhisky, so he might as well look for him.

He wasn’t in the living room, or the kitchen, or the dining room. Harry wasn’t sure if he could really list all the places he wasn’t, Malfoy’s house had so many rooms. The last room he tried was the attic, although he admitted he didn’t really expect to find anything.

He certainly didn’t expect to find Malfoy sitting on an old cardboard box, very calmly reading an old-looking book. At least, calmly until Harry entered, at which point he managed to fling the book into the air and almost jump behind a box, like a foot-tall box would hide him.

“Malfoy?”

Malfoy seemed to recompose his face into a sneer, like it was the most natural thing in the world he was here and actually it was Potter who was being embarrassed. “Potter? Wasn’t expecting you to show up.”

“How odd, because I  _ was  _ expecting you to show up. I suppose we’re both surprising people today.”

Malfoy looked at the floor awkwardly. “I prefer it up here.” Harry thought he sounded oddly pathetic.

“Malfoy, it’s  _ your party _ . You can’t just hide, why did you have the party in the first place?”

“Father did, every year. The Malfoy Christmas party is a tradition I was expected to carry on.”

“But you don’t actually enjoy the party?”

“Of course not. Who would?”

Harry thought for a moment. The firewhisky had already infiltrated his veins. “Why don’t you make the party better?”

“What?”

“Have a fun party, or something. Rather than a load of ministry officials standing around talking about Goblin rights or something.”

Malfoy sneered. “How would I do that?”

“You just wait.”

Harry went down the two floors, he could hear Malfoy shouting behind him to wait, to not do whatever it was he was planning to do, but he quickly lost him in the crowd. He slipped outside and found a payphone, dialling Ron’s number.

“Hi mate, what is it?” Ron sounded a bit drunk. Good, Harry thought.

“Come round here.”

“What? I’m with Dean and Seamus. Where are you?”

“Malfoy’s place.”

“Harry, I’m not going there.”

“Trust me. Bring Dean and Seamus, bring a load of booze.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Come on, it’s a party!”

Ron paused for a minute. Harry was praying he wouldn’t say no.

“OK then, but it had better be good.”

“Don’t worry, it will be.”

Harry hung up the phone, and reentered the house. He almost immediately collided with Hermione.

“What are you smiling about?”

Harry suddenly realised he was grinning from ear to ear, and stopped. “Nothing.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Just a bit of a surprise for Malfoy.”

Hermione frowned at him fiercely, catapulting Harry back to school with her uncanny impression of Professor McGonagall. “Harry, what have you done?”

He giggled. “I’ve invited your husband to the party.”

“What? How? I couldn’t even do that.”

“Just you wait and see.”

He walked away, ignoring Hermione shouting his name behind him in a rather concerned way, and waited for the boys to show up.

It didn’t take long, and Ron, Seamus, Dean, and oddly enough Neville, all arrived with rather a lot of much stronger firewhisky than Ron had, as well as quite a lot of Muggle vodka and beers, presumably from Dean’s flat. The party almost immediately got rather more raucous, as Seamus highjacked the magical sound system and began blasting the Weird Sisters. It managed to drive Malfoy from the attic at least.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re having a proper party, Malfoy, care to join in?” 

“Yeah, come on Malfoy, it’ll be a laugh.” Dean added.

“You can’t-” but he was interrupted.

“What the  _ hell _ are you doing?” It was Hermione. “Ron? Why are you here?”

“Harry invited me.”   
“Yes he told me that. Are you just here to ruin the party?”

“Not ruin, Hermione, improve,” Harry told her. The whole group were beginning to get funny looks from those surrounding them, and more people had taken this as a cue to leave. “Get the party going a bit!”   
“Potter, get out of here, all of you, get out!” Malfoy looked furious, and for a moment Harry thought that maybe he’d gone too far. Just for a moment, though.

“Malfoy, chill. Shall we get some of your friends here?”

“No, no, no,” Malfoy had begun saying into his hands, but nobody was paying attention.

“Yeah,” Seamus said. “Not Crabbe and Goyle, nobody wants them here. Blaise? And Pansy?”

“Sounds good,” Ron said. He was really getting into it now. “Malfoy, get over yourself, here, have some vodka.”

Malfoy took the vodka weakly and, shrugging, took a sip. It was clear he didn’t think it could get any worse.

Maybe he was wrong.

Half an hour later, Blaise and Pansy turned up, and almost everyone had gone. The only people left were some of the young aurors Harry, Ron and Neville knew, some other younger department employees, as well as some overworked older ones who clearly wanted to drink vodka and dance at a party more than anything else in the world, really.

Malfoy had a surprisingly low alcohol tolerance, so he’d actually gotten into it quite quickly. Hermione was harder to persuade, but when she realised anyone of any importance had left, she let her hair down pretty quickly.

By two am, everyone was smashed, and the ones who weren’t still dancing in the other room (that was mostly the overworked older employees, the ones who weren’t asleep) had begun a game of spin the bottle.

Hermione had somehow been made to go first, but Harry (even in a pretty inebriated state) was sure she’d enchanted the bottle to land on Ron, which was obviously just cheating. An auror had been made to kiss a young ministry worker who she had obviously been trying to get with the whole night, and Harry was beginning to think the bottle was enchanted. Then it was Harry’s go. He spinned the bottle and it spun round to point to…

Malfoy.

“Aw, give him another go,” Ron shouted, “that’d just be mean.”

“Why so scared Weasley, think your friend’s a chicken?” Pansy retorted, cackling like a proper witch.

“Hey, my friend’s a Gryffindor. Your friend’s a coward.”

“Oh yeah?”

Harry had a horrible feeling this was going to end up with him kissing Malfoy, and Malfoy looked like he felt the same. Dean interjected.

“Just kiss already! It’s my turn next.”

Harry shifted awkwardly over the circle, as Malfoy did the same. Their lips met and they were kissing. He had a horrible feeling he couldn’t pull away first, because that would look worse, so they just stayed there until everyone stopped whooping.

Sure enough, Dean got Seamus which again was just cheating. Malfoy stood up and left the room, visibly upset, but nobody noticed. Nobody but Harry, that is.

“Hey prick,” he announced on entering the kitchen. “You OK?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine.” Damn him, this git was even more composed than him when Harry knew he’d consumed most of a bottle of vodka.

“You just chicken? Scared you’d have to kiss Ron next?”

Malfoy didn’t reply for a moment, fiddling with a glass on the counter. “Why did you do this.”

“Do what?”

“The party.”

“Don’t you like it?”

Malfoy sighed. “It’s great, you know it’s great. It could lose me my job, though. Or at least a promotion.”

Harry laughed loudly. “That’s what you’re worried about? The ministry hasn’t changed that much. Malfoy, you’re a… well, you’re a Malfoy. Your ancestors were ministers and heads of department and everything. You could probably do better than  _ Hermione _ sitting on your arse. You’ll be fine, and I can’t do anything about that.”

“Thanks, Potter,” he mumbled.

“So, you coming back in?”

“I think I’ll stay out here a bit.”

“What is your problem?” Harry was getting unreasonably angry. He knew that, but he didn’t care. “What’s the matter? You’ll be fine, I told you so.”

“It’s not that.”

Draco moved closer to him, and Harry didn’t know what was happening, he was frozen to the spot. He felt Draco’s hand on his arm. His face was so close and getting closer… closer… closer…

Further away.

“Sorry. Stupid. Go back in there.”

“Draco?”

“Go back!”

Draco was facing away from him now, bending over the sink like he was going to be sick. Harry moved behind him, and spoke more softly. “Draco…”

Draco turned to see Harry behind him, and Harry moved forwards with the kiss. Their lips met once more, and Harry smiled into the kiss. It hadn’t been anything he’d ever considered before, but now it was happening, it felt so right. Even more than with Ginny. No, don’t think about Ginny…

Harry woke up, bleary-eyed, a hangover already starting to float above his head. He could hear laughter coming from another room, and ignored it for now. He flailed around in the kitchen, managing to find some bagels and put some cheese on them. It’s good enough for a breakfast. The laughter began again. 

He found Pansy lying on the sofa while Malfoy sat cross-legged in the middle of the carpet laughing loudly at something she’d just said. How were Malfoy’s dress robes still so pristine? Harry looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. He groaned.

“Can you keep it down, please?”

“What’s the matter Potter, hungover!?” She shouted the last word, and Harry groaned again and took a bite of his bagel. 

“Hey Malfoy, want a bagel?”   
Malfoy took it gratefully, and Harry stumbled out of the room, trying to remember last night. Trying to remember quite why he just gave Malfoy that bagel, and why his chest sort of felt weird when he saw him… 

He’d figure it out later.

He stumbled past Hermione standing in the doorframe, who considered telling him about the bottle she’d enchanted last night, or what she’d seen in the kitchen, or Harry falling asleep in Draco’s lap on the sofa.

She’d tell him later.


End file.
